Because Giving Up is Just a Waste of Time
by BryteTwilight
Summary: **OotP MEGA SPOILERS!** Harry's been contemplating the death and his future, but he's not the only one. Songfic with Dishwalla.


Title: 'Cause Giving Up is a Total Waste of Time  
  
Author: brytetwilight  
  
Rating: PG, just in case.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Dishwalla, because if i did this story wouldn't be on Fanfiction.net.  
  
Summary: **OotP MAJOR SPOILERS!** Harry's been contemplating the death, alone. Songfic with Dishwalla.  
  
Author's Note: A SONGFIC?! From me?! Not my best bit of work, I'm afraid. I haven't been writing much of anything good lately, lol. Ah well. . .quick idea, quick story, R&R because I need suggestions.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Harry sat on the lush velvet window seat of his dormitory, staring out the window. None of the other boys had awakened, but they could not be blamed; the sun was only just rising.  
Even the sun, it seemed, rose with a heavy heart, for the last time it had graced this side of the world, there had been a few more people.  
Including Sirius.  
Harry leaned his head against the glass as his eyes closed. He drew in two deep, shuddering breaths, staring outside. The grass was covered with a heavy coat of dew, an eerie amount near the forest. There, almost two years ago, Sirius had been as Padfoot, roaming the grounds with Crookshanks.  
Had the death only been last night? For some reason, the time lapse seemed so much larger.  
Harry sighed. Don't dwell on it, he tried to tell himself, but immediately another side of him rose in anger.  
My Gdfather is dead. DEAD. What the hell do you mean, don't dwell on it?!  
Turning his head slightly, away from the window, Harry spotted his open trunk. The end of his Firebolt protruded from the right side. Distractions are so very nice, Harry thought, pulling on his robes and dashing out of the common room with his broom.  
He didn't notice the slight flutter of fabric as Ron Weasley let go of the partition around his bed.  
  
***  
  
I don't know where to go  
  
So I guess I'll have to fly  
  
I'll have to dream of all good things before I die  
  
***  
  
Out on the Quidditch field for the first time in what felt like forever, Harry smiled slightly. He hadn't ridden ever since Professor Umbridge confiscated his broom, and the alluring lie of freedom had been eating away at him, urging him to take a ride.  
He mounted his broom and sped in circles near the ground. The tips of his boots slightly brushed the grass as he flew steadily higher and higher, the wind pushing against him and tousling his hair.  
Despite the momentary joy of being back in the air once more, Harry's worries hadn't left him.  
  
***  
  
So where to go?  
  
Lord, I guess I'll have to fly  
  
I'll have to dream of all good things before I die  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore's words mulled over and over again in his mind as riverstones, being smoothed and dissected.  
He would have to kill Voldemort, he had said, or vice versa. For neither could live while the other survived.  
Harry, only just completing his fifth year, defeat the greatest dark wizard ever to rise?! Sure, he had triumphed as a baby, but that did not count because it was not his own doing, but his mother's. Hermione and Ron would be willing to debate this, he was sure. As they said before starting D.A., he had evaded the grasp of Voldemort three times as of yet. Harry did not find this to his advantage at all; by all means, it was only a game of cat-and-mouse.  
What a joy.  
Never mind the Daily Prophet's hypocrisy. The nerve of them, Harry thought-after all they had said, after their jokes and editorials and rants against him, how they could go back and contradict all of that was far beyond his comprehension.  
Well, no, it wasn't, really. Anything to get on the people's good side, right? That's how the Ministry worked.  
  
***  
  
And it's getting so much harder to be one these days  
  
So much harder to believe  
  
And so much harder to be one these days  
  
So much harder to believe  
  
Yeah, believe  
  
***  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Harry did not notice a pair of shocking red robes hurtling his way. He did not dive to avoid them, but instead the pair twisted around in midair, turning to face Harry. Unfortunately, this effort failed and the person onboard the other broomstick slipped slightly, just grasping the broom with one hand and escaping a nasty fall.  
The face of Ron Weasley, red creeping its way slowly up his cheeks, stared upwards. "'Lo, Harry."  
Harry began to sigh, wanting to be alone, but then figured he could use some company. A small smile stretched upon his face.  
"Hey, Ron."  
Ron grinned, glad to get a slightly positive response. He pulled his broom down slightly and swung himself back onto it. "Sorry 'bout nearly running into you," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit. They immediately stopped when he continued. "It's just. . .er. . .we were worried," he glanced down.  
Harry followed the gaze over to the ground near the left goal post. Hermione, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and most unexpectedly, Luna, were sitting in a clutter.  
Harry felt the five pairs of eyes on him turn away as soon as he saw them looking. Well, all except Luna, who was fingering a blade of grass, her head bowed.  
"Will you come down for just a moment?" Ron said, looking a bit uneasy. "We want to talk to you."  
Harry hesitated for a second, and then nodded. "Yes. . .for a moment." Without another word, he broke off into a wind-splitting dive  
  
***  
  
And did they know  
  
That they'd need a fence so high  
  
'Cause giving up  
  
Is a total waste of time  
  
***  
  
Harry turned the end of his broomstick up slightly, less than a meter above the ground. He almost got off his broom, but left it hanging in the air as he swung one leg over to face them. "Hello."  
They remained silent, but Harry was not sure whether it was because they weren't sure what to say, or because they were scared that what they had to say would rile him. He cleared his throat. "Er-you wanted to talk to me about something?"  
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, just as Ron caused a slight distraction by dive-bombing in the middle of the circle. He sat up, leaving his broomstick on the floor. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his head and shooting looks at the sniggering Dean and Seamus, who immediately silenced themselves. "I was trying to do that thing Harry did-you know, pulling up at the last moment?-but I guess it's not for Keepers."  
Hermione hid a smile. "S'okay, Ron, have a seat." Ron scooted from the middle and placed himself in between Hermione and Ginny. "As I was saying," Hermione continued, having this very-well rehearsed. "We want you to know that. . .um. . ." she paused, a pink tint creeping up her face at the next line. She shot a glance at Ginny.  
"We'll always be here for you," Ginny saved. "And that, although you have more than all the reason, we don't want you to get distraught, because besides the fact that we hate seeing you like this-"  
"That's what Voldemort wants," Neville continued. He smiled a bit at Harry. "I can say it now. Erm-anyway-we don't want you to give up. We heard from Dumbledore about the Prophecy-not the whole school, just us!" he added hastily at Harry's widened eyes. "Uh. . ."  
"And we want to make sure that you don't have a reason to give up," Luna said. Hermione resisted a glare, as they had not rehearsed this, but decided that it was for the better. "We'll back you up the entire time, as we did. . .last night." She began to blush under Harry's eyes, which was something she rarely ever did. "As the Professor Dumbledore said at the end of last year, such a strong evil can only be conquered by an equally strong bond of friendship, or trust, or something like that."  
Dean glanced over Harry's shoulder. "Speak of the devil," he said in an amused voice.  
  
***  
  
I stop to breath in air as I  
  
Watch the ground beneath us blend into the sky  
  
***  
  
Harry heard a voice call from behind him. "I wouldn't sit on a broom like that, Mr. Potter. . ." Harry recognized it and whirled around to say hello to Professor Dumbledore. In doing so, his legs straightened but did not support him as he slid onto the ground.  
Dumbledore leaned over Harry. "You might fall off."  
  
***  
  
And it's getting so much harder to be one these days  
  
So much harder to believe  
  
***  
  
Hermione giggled. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall."  
Harry looked to the side to see McGonagall standing beside Dumbledore, their arms hooked in one another's. He smiled slightly.  
"Good morning," Dumbledore said. "As you can see, we were taking an early-morning stroll, when thanks to the help of your twin brothers," he eyed Ginny and Ron, smiling. "God bless them, we found we were needed and headed over." When he caught Seamus staring, he quickly dropped his fellow Professor's arm.  
  
***  
  
And so much harder to be one these days  
  
So much harder to believe  
  
***  
  
At this, Professor Dumbledore plopped down in the grass, the temporary twinkle fading from his eye. "Why we were needed, however, I am not sure of."  
"If you don't mind, Mr. Potter, I am going to borrow your broomstick," McGonagall said faintly, seating herself just as Harry had.  
The conversation ceased as Dumbledore gazed at Hermione. She shot a quick glance at Harry and bit her lip.  
"You see, sir. . .we were, um. . .discussing the events of last night," she finished lamely.  
"I see," he said.  
Harry felt like shouting at Hermione, but restrained himself. Now laying on his stomach, he spoke for the first time since they had said hello. "Professor. . .I can't do it."  
  
***  
  
'Cause it's getting so much harder to be one these days  
  
So much harder to believe  
  
So much harder to be one these days  
  
So much harder to believe  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore sighed, knowing where the conversation was leading, and wanting to avoid making Harry angrier with him at all costs. Fortunately, Harry continued, his voice hollow.  
"I can't do it. I can't kill him. He killed my parents, and my. . .the one person who I can ever remember truly feeling like a parent to me." He paused a moment, restraining the crack in his voice.  
"I'm a fifth year, almost sixth, and don't care what kind of magic is protecting me. I can't even master self-transfiguration," he added, glancing at Professor McGonagall. "So I don't see how I'm supposed to. . .I mean. . .I can't."  
Dumbledore stood, and McGonagall followed his lead. "Well, then, Mr. Potter, if all I'm here for is reassurance, I can reassure you that the Prophecy stated that you and Voldemort were marked as an equals," he said, point blank. "Now if you will excuse us, I'm afraid we must continue our morning leisure activities before the day of work begins. Goodbye," Dumbledore began to walk off, and after a meaningful, apologetic glance back at her students, McGonagall followed.  
"Albus. . ." she trailed, lightly touching his arm.  
He looked at her, feeling very out of character, to say the least. "Sometimes wish I could be like a parent to him. Grandfather, rather, I suppose." He shook his head, smiling a bit. "Well, let's go.  
  
***  
  
I don't know where to go  
  
No, I don't know where to go.  
  
***  
  
The crew left back at the Quidditch pitch glanced at each other. "Sorry about that, Harry. . ." Hermione was preparing to have her head bitten of. "That wasn't supposed to happen.  
Harry shook his head, trying to figure out what had come over his headmaster. "It's all right, not your fault. Anyway, I suppose it was for the. . ." He interrupted himself, glancing at his watch for a lack of words. "It's time for breakfast. Let's head up, shall we?"  
Harry sighed as they walked back to the castle, a true smile gracing his face for the first time since Sirius had died. He was content, like this, having his friends among him, supporting him. It was, in fact, so much better to be upset with others than to be upset and alone.  
Yes, he thought. Life would go on. 


End file.
